That's Immortality
by ALeighS
Summary: The Drake twins dance together like a snake and its charmer, both powerful, both dangerous, both putting on a show to fools onlookers and sometimes themselves. They're two sides of the same DNA strand, twisted together and then pulling apart, only to be sewn back together by fate and choice. Is it any surprise their daughters should have be brought together by the same, dark magnet
1. Chapter 1

Welcome! It's been about ten years since I posted my last fanfiction, but the course the PLL storyline took inspired me to attempt to re-work the execution while keeping the same major plot points. This work is a prequel of sorts, establishing the relationship between Jessica and Mary and exploring how they came to be the dark women we know them as. It will be near cannon.

In keeping with what I think are the best (lost) parts of PLL, the path the Drake twins take in this story is heavily influenced by the cruel decisions of the men in their life. Specifically, TRIGGER WARNINGS for childhood molestation and abuse.

 **Chapter 1**

Dorothy Drake knew that her husband was no good. She supposed she loved him, if one defined love broadly enough to include a fondness born from the mutual benefits they derived from one of another, which she did. Of her various suitors, he benefited her the most, and she benefited him the most from his various courtships, and their families were satisfied, and that was that. That was love.

But she knew he was no good. He didn't hit her or say he was working late while he was really shacking up with floozies in town. He was a sharp business man who didn't gamble their money. He provided her with a substantial living in a genuine Victorian renovation in upper Pennsylvania. He was always proud to have her on his arm at Church on Sundays, and neighbors spoke of them with respect.

But Robert Drake also had a envelope full of nude photographs of children locked in his desk drawer, which he and Dorothy have spoken about exactly once, and never again.

"This is precisely why I keep them there!" He had said. "You women are so hysterical. They're artistic. They're French!" As though that resolved it.

"It's unsettling, Robert," she had told him, placing her hands on her swollen belly, feeling the paired kicks and stretches.

"For god's sake, woman, you're acting like I'm looking at pornography. They're children."

Dorothy supposed it could definitely be worse, and she imagined her mother would tell her the same. It wasn't as though she could go crawling home again. She was twenty five and married and pregnant with two babies. She had considerable social influence. And it was true that the pictures weren't sexually posed. But her deepest intuition told her that there was a reason they were locked in a drawer, a reason that was perhaps shrouded even from Robert himself. She felt faintly lucky that the children wouldn't be around him much. It was a blessing that his job kept him busy and out of her sphere. Any woman would agree.

He wasn't there when they were born. He was at home, drinking a beer, celebrating their impending arrival.

Dorothy doesn't remember much. The medicine they gave her made her woozy and forgetful, but when they wheeled her down to the nursery and let her peer through the window, she realized she had never truly loved until that moment. Her two little girls, lying side by side, awoke a feeling in her that was physical, a weight that spread from her chest to her extremities, a heat that flashed through her like the shiver that ran through her when she sipped wine. She began to bawl, hands pressed against the glass, quite unladylike. And when her gown became soaked at the chest quite suddenly, dark sticky patches of early milk spreading from her nipples, she was too stunned by emotion to even care.

"What are you calling them?" the nurse asked kindly, offering her a rough hospital blanket to press against her breasts.

"Which came first?" Dorothy asked, and she decisively designated the earlier, smaller baby Mary, and the second, stronger baby Jessica.

"Mary made herself meek in the service of the lord," she told the nurse piously. "Look at her. That one will certainly make me proud."

"And Jessica?"

"It's a crisp name. Jess-i-ca," she said, emphasizing the hard consonants. "She looks strong."

Mary and Jessica were almost exactly identical. They had thick honey blond hair that lay smoothly on their heads, blue eyes that were wide and sometimes vacant in that sleepy, overwhelmed way of infants, and the clearest, prettiest skin Dorothy had ever seen. Jessica had a light blue vein running across the bridge of her nose, but it could only be seen in certain lights. The easiest way to tell them apart was to look for the two brown beauty marks on the left side of Mary's face, one tucked into the crease of her nose, the other on her cheek.

They slept like kittens, in strange, floppy positions, curled across one another. When Dorothy found them like that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended until she would spot those two brown dots.

At Mary and Jessica's six month doctor's appointment, Dorothy was proud to report that they were sleep trained, eating cereal, and weaning from breastmilk. The pediatrician, in her opinion, was not suitably impressed.

"And how often are they apart?" He asked her.

"Apart?" Dorothy asked. "They're twins!"

"You don't want them to get too attached," the doctor said. "New mothers often make the mistake of spoiling their babies. You have to deal with them spoiling each other, too. You stay at home, of course?"

"Yes, of course," Dorothy answered.

"Try to stagger their feeding and sleeping schedule. Spend some time one-on-one with them. If you can't handle it, get your mother or a nanny to come by. Even a girl in the neighborhood who needs some practice."

Dorothy stared at her daughters as she placed them in their car cot, carefully balanced on the floorboard. They were curled into one another, Mary's head against Jessica chest, Jessica's knees against Mary's stomach, a yin yang in yellow and pink. The doctor's last warning echoed in her ear.

"You have two children, not one."

Dorothy wasn't sure the babies knew that.

Jessica had three favorite stuffed animals. Two of them had been Mary's before Jessica grew attached to them, and Mary, either uncharacteristically kind for an 18 month old or typically forgetful, had shrugged after a brief struggle and attached herself to something else. Jessica's tastes were varied and comfortable. Tucked into bed with her each night were a round bellied teddy bear, a floppy baby doll with a heavy, dropping head, and a bean-filled cat which rustled when it was held. She carried one or two of them with her most of the time, keeping the others safely in her blankets.

Mary, on the other hand, was a formal thing even then. She had taken a liking to a stiff, starched doll, about eight inches high with a navy dress in velvet, its face, hands, and legs a crisp porcelain. This she protected fiercely. Jessica had been quickly dissuaded from stealing this lovey for her own when Mary had slapped her outreached hand, hard, once.

It was the first time one of the twins had hurt the other. Dorothy couldn't help but feel a little proud. From then on, Mary kept the doll sitting neatly in a small wooden chair at the end of her bed. Dorothy would watch Mary stroke its soft hair and give it a gentle kiss each night before bed.

"And how are Mary and Jessica doing these days?" The pediatrician asked as he washed his hands at the sink. Dorothy smiled and ran through the list - they were working on potty training, they were using utensils, they were sleeping well. There were the occasional tantrums, as two year olds were wont to have, and bumps and bruises as they mastered running and hopping. The doctor nodded and examined the girls.

Jessica and Mary sat through it all happily. Jessica kicked her feet wildly while she sat atop the examining table and Mary giggled, swinging hers back and forth with somewhat less intensity. They held hands as the doctor stretched their legs and listened to their chests. Mary lay her head against Jessica's shoulder; Jessica ran her hand softly through Mary's hair. They were innocent angels, blond hair lit up by the bright examining lights. It was hard to imagine they ever fought.

"I do have one concern…" Dorothy said hesitantly.

"What's that?"

"Well, Jessica has been hurting Mary...a lot. In my opinion."

Mary had head her name. "M'ree, M'ree!" she said. "Je-ca, M'ree."

Jessica intervened. "Mommy, mommy. No! No M'ree. Je-ca!"

"Tantrums and physical aggression are very usual at this age," the doctor said, distracted as he smiled at the girls. "It's normal for kids to fight when they're angry or frustrated."

Dorothy sighed. "No, I've been preparing for that, and they both occasionally hit each other when they're fighting over a toy or something. But this seems...different. Mary will be playing quietly on her own and Jessica will come in from another room and pull her hair. Or pinch her. It's not quick, it's deliberate."

The two adults stared at the children, who stared back, hands clasped. Dorothy could sense the doctor was restraining a laugh.

"Dorothy," the doctor said kindly. "I think Jessica's discovering that Mary and herself are different people. She's experimenting. 'When I do this to her, can I feel it?'"

Dorothy breathed out. She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath.

"I did warn you," the doctor said. "Try to give them more time apart."

When the twins turned three, Dorothy enrolled them in pre-school.

"Why?" Robert had asked her with a sneer. "Aren't you their teacher? What are you going to do all day?"

Dorothy had promptly reminded him that it was long past time that she get re-involved with her community.

"Before the twins, I counted money at church, I hosted bridge, I played piano for community events!" Dorothy defended herself. "The girls will be fine at school, it's three hours Robert!"

 _Hmph,_ he had said, and left the room, continuing to mumble under his breath.

"Just doesn't seem right, Dorothy, it just doesn't seem right."

Later, Dorothy tried to get him excited about what the girls were doing at school.

"Tell Daddy what you did today, Jessica!" she would say, and Jessica, the little chatter box, was off, talking about painting and water play and counting. She sang her alphabet, loud, primly, making them each sit down and watch her as though she were performing on stage. She knew the words to every nursery rhyme and accompanied them with hand motions. While she reenacted their day, Mary sang quietly along under her breath.

Robert loved to watch Jessica to perform and Dorothy was relieved to see him take an interest in the girls. After Jessica had worn herself out, Robert turned to Mary with narrowed eyes.

"What about you? Don't you want to get up there with Sissy? Look how nice she looks, look how poised she is! Didn't you do anything?"

"Daddy, I sang too," Mary said. "And did my _wetters_ and stuff. I don't know…" She quelled under his expectant gaze.

"Mary's teachers say she's the best in the class with counting," Dorothy would remind Robert.

"Ah, numbers. What good is that on a girl? Ha! Take care of me in my old age though, won't you girly?" And he messed her hair and turn back to Jessica.

Mary hopped up, pushing Jessica from her spot centered in front of their parent.

"Watch! I can go to fifty!" Mary fidgeted with her clothes, smoothing her skirt and hair before hesitantly launching into her numbers.

"One, two, _free…_ " she said and haltingly make it to twenty Robert got annoyed at her slow pace and got up.

Dorothy wasted no time launching into her concerns at the twins four year doctor's appointment.

"Mary doesn't speak correctly. She says _ff_ for _th_ and _t_ for _ck_ and and _wuh_ for _llll_. Jessica talks for her, I know that's the problem, I've tried to keep them separated but then Mary just doesn't talk!"

"She says what?" Jessica asked. "Mommy, Mary says what? _Wuh_ for what, mommy? Mama!"

"Jessica, hang on!" Dorothy snapped. "You see? Mary hasn't said a thing."

"Mary, she says you don't speak no good," Jessica told Mary solemnly, the effect somewhat lessened by the fact that she was holding both of Mary's hands in her own and Mary was leaning back and swinging side to side. "Tell her you can talk."

"I tan talk, mama," Mary said. "Wook what I can do! Sissy, hold me!"

The doctor sent her on her way with a specialist recommendation and a set of flashcards with mouth exercises and letter sounds. After a while Mary grew out of it and the story become a cute funny that they would trot out at Christmas time and for new teachers.

"Jessica and Mary are so close, Jessica used to say everything for Mary. Mary couldn't do half her letters because Jessica just did it for her!"

At six, Jessica picked a fight with Robert.

Robert yelled himself hoarse, while Dorothy hovered at the edge of the room, hands on her hips. Mary, she noticed, was sitting just inside the bathroom, the door cracked, watching from safety.

Jessica muttered something under her breath, something, Dorothy was sure, that was impossibly snooty and sassy. But they were all surprised when Robert scooped Jessica up by her waist and yanked her skirt up, spanking her, hard, three times across her bottom. Even Robert looked a little shocked as he dropped her to the ground, his finger shaking as he pointed her out of the room.

Dorothy heard the bathroom door swing open fully, as Mary chased after Jessica down the hall to their room. There was a _woosh_ and then a dull thud, as though Mary had slid between the door and its frame before Jessica could slam it. Jessica's howl could be heard through the house for half an hour.

Dorothy woke up that night at 1 a.m. and Robert was gone. She stumbled to their bedroom door, opened it, and saw him leaving Jessica and Mary's room.

"Just wanted to check on Jessica," he said. "She fell asleep without saying goodnight. I was a little hard on her, wasn't I?"

They didn't look at each other as they climbed into bed.

Shortly after the girls turned seven, Dorothy shuffled them to the car and drove to the doctor's office, snapping at them to keep their giggles lowered if they wanted to keep their voice boxes. She couldn't help glancing in the rearview mirror, checking that their curls were in order, their dresses starched and neat.

"You girls better have put on clean underwear," she warned them.

"We did!" They chorused. Dorothy watched as Jessica reached over to Mary and slide her hand up her skirt, as though to check. Mary gave a squeal and scooted toward the window.

"Ow! Don't pinch me!"

"Jessica!" Dorothy snapped, and her daughter's head drooped to examine her hands as though chastised, though Dorothy didn't miss the sly smile on the younger twin's face as she glanced at her sister.

"They need the puberty talk, doctor," she said promptly when they arrived.

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"And I want you to examine them. Make sure they aren't doing anything filthy to themselves...or each other"

"Oh, Mrs. Drake, that's really not necessary at this age," the doctor assured her. "Exploring is perfectly normal and not sexual. They may realize it feels good, but they're not associating that pleasure with intimacy."

"I'm concerned that their relationship is...unconventional," Dorothy said, stiffly. She didn't glance at her girls but saw from her peripheral vision that they had stilled and turned in interest.

"Hmm... a conversation with a religious figure may help them understand why those acts aren't appropriate. It's really not my domain," the doctor said firmly.

As they drove home, Dorothy thought hard, whispering under her breath as she formed the words. When they pulled into the drive she turned in her seat to examine Mary and Jessica. Both were sitting neatly with their hands sandwiched between their knees and the seat, tucked far apart on either side of the car.

Dorothy sighed. If only the doctor had examined them. Their relationship with each other was strange, to be sure, but her concerns were bigger.

"Girls," she began firmly. "You don't touch the private parts under your underwear. You shouldn't touch each other's private parts, either. And **no one** should touch yours."

Jessica and Mary glanced at one another in confusion. Dorothy hoped it was because it had never occurred to them to touch or be touched.

Dorothy paused. _What if I'm wrong? What if I make them scared of their dad? What if I scare them away from each other?_

"It might feel good and it might be hard not to. It doesn't make someone bad, to want to touch...it just means they need help remembering not to. It just means they have to work on it more."

Years later, as she lay in a ditch, a chill wind skating over her body, Dorothy was haunted by those words. She had given her daughters the language to excuse their father's deeds, and that's certainly what they had done - until that night.

Dorothy Drake knew her husband was no good.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much for the feedback from the previous chapter. I'm planning this story to be about 6 chapters long and span from their childhood through Jessica's death. This chapter covers their early childhood into pre-teen years._

 _Once again, TRIGGER WARNINGS for childhood sexual abuse and violence._

 **Chapter 2:**

"Your dad is creepy," their cousin said. Mary crossed her arms over her chest.

"No he's not."

"Is," the older girl replied, mimicking Mary's position. She was a head taller than Mary. "My mom said she doesn't like the look of him and I'm not to be alone with him. She says she wouldn't want to be married to him."

Mary felt uncomfortable. She twisted her hands together. But Mama said not to do that, so she dropped them to her side. She took a deep breath. _What would Jessica say?_

"Maybe your mama's just jealous," Mary said. That wasn't right. Jessica would have a reason for their aunt to be jealous. Mary couldn't remember anything about their aunt, except that her name was Carol.

The cousin laughed. Mary couldn't remember anything about her either, not even her name.

"There's nothing to be jealous of. She has a husband who's not creepy, _my_ dad."

"She's jealous because _our_ dad makes enough to afford a stable and a horse- for _each_ of us," Jessica said, walking up. She put her arm around Mary. Mary felt safer. She liked being with her sister the best. Where they were and when they went didn't matter as long as Mary and Jessica were together. "Carrot-face Carol is jealous because she dated my daddy before _my_ mommy stole him away and married him!"

"Mom!" The cousin yelled, stomping away. Jessica smiled at Mary.

"Is that true?" Mary asked.

"Yes," Jessica said, putting her hands on her hips. She looked at Mary's face. "Well, we do have two horses. And Aunt Carol does have a carrot face." Jessica sucked in her cheeks, pulled down her chin, and crossed her eyes. Mary laughed.

"She said daddy is creepy," Mary said quietly. She checked to see where their parents were. Aunt Carol and the cousin were walking towards Mama. They looked mad.

"Creepy, like a ghost from Halloween? Sometimes he's weird," Jessica said. "He just sits there and stares at nothing. Or goes to his office for a long time. But that's just how dads are."

Mary thought Jessica knew an awful lot about dads for a six year old who only had one. But Jessica often knew things that Mary didn't. She was bossy and nosy so people told her stuff.

"I don't like her," Mary said.

"Me either. We need to show her she's wrong. It'll be a quest, on that show! We'll be daring princesses talking to a frightening mountain king, and we'll prove that he is a nice giant. We'll go all over the world and tell all the people about his kindness. Come on!"

Jessica grabbed Mary's hand and drug her through the room. She gave their daddy a big hug around his waist. Mary's chin bumped Jessica's back as she tried to wrap her arms around Jessica and Daddy.

Mama walked by with a bad face. Jessica turned her face towards Mama with a big smile.

"I love my daddy, Mama!"

Mama smiled a little too. She walked away without saying anything about Aunt Carol the carrot-face.

It's like Mary had never thought about their daddy being weird before, which is just like her, she needs Jessica to help her think about things that aren't right in front of her. Mama says that Mary sees what people say and do and Jessica sees what people feel and think and that it's a good thing there's two of them.

Jessica has noticed before except also her daddy goes to lots of meetings and has lots of people over and everyone talks to him really politely so she knows he can't be that weird. Grownups don't like to be around weird people. They like to be around powerful people, like cops and pastors who tell grown ups what to do, or bank people who decided if you can have your money. Sometimes grownups like to be with nice people too, like teachers or friends, but the best, Jessica thinks, is when someone is nice and powerful.

So when Mama asks her later after the party why she called Aunt Carol a carrot-face, Jessica just tells her the truth.

"She said daddy was creepy. Are you creepy, Daddy?"

After that, they started to argue, her Daddy and her Mama and then Jessica had some stuff to add. That made Mama and Daddy angry and then they argued with Jessica instead of each other. Mary was hiding in the bathroom.

Jessica didn't really think her daddy was that creepy but she didn't like the way he got super mad when she said it and made a mean face. That made it seem like cousin June was right.

"Why can't you just act not creepy, Daddy?" She said, feeling brave and angry, but not brave enough to say it _too_ loud. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're doing it right now."

Suddenly, Jessica wasn't looking at her Daddy's mad face but instead at the floor. Her feet were off the ground and in the air and there was a breeze on her bottom and- oh!

Daddy hit her three times and it hurt, it hurt so bad, and then he dropped her and the bottom of her feet hurt. Then she fell on her bottom and that wasn't fair because it already hurt so, so bad. She stood up and ran to her bedroom.

Mary ran behind her and she felt a little better because it was bad when they were apart.

Then she remembered that Mary was the one who started this whole stupid thing with June and she slammed both her hands into the door so that Mary would stay away. She should be hit by Daddy, not Jessica!

But Mary had already been coming in the room. The door went _woosh_ and then slammed into Mary's hand. Mary pushed into the room and let out a loud cry. It sounded like she was screaming.

That made Jessica scream-cry too. They closed the door and held each other and cried until they fell asleep.

Mary woke up. Her hand hurt. Jessica had hurt her but Mary wasn't mad. She thought it was probably an accident with the door. Later Jessica had hit her hard on the bottom, three times. That was on purpose. It was okay because Mary knew they should be even. It wasn't fair that Jessica had been hit and Mary hadn't. Plus, Daddy was stronger than Jessica, so Jessica's bottom probably hurt worse.

Mary heard a noise in the room. She rolled over. Jessica was in her own bed. Daddy was with her. He must have picked her up and put her there.

"I'm sorry I spanked you," she heard her daddy whisper. "I still love you, even though you hurt my feelings. Let me rub where I hurt you. Now show me you still love me. That's good."

"Daddy," Mary said, sitting up. "I want to be with you too."

Daddy sat up from Jessica's bed. Jessica smiled at Mary in the dark.

"It's special daddy time for me because I got spanked," she told Mary. "You didn't. Daddy and I are telling each other sorry."

"Oh," Mary said. She felt sad. "Well I love you too, Daddy."

"I love you too, Mary. Go to sleep, girls."

Daddy left and Mary rolled back over and went back to sleep.

Something new and different started that night, and Jessica knew it even then.

Jessica was mad when Mary woke up. Jessica almost never had time alone with anyone, especially Daddy, and she liked seeing Daddy sad and sorry. Daddy was nice to her and cuddled her and that felt good. She didn't want to be spanked again, but she liked spending time with Daddy. That was confusing.

After Mary rolled over to pout about not getting special Daddy time, Jessica stood up and tiptoed to the hallway. She saw Daddy going into his bedroom and heard him say, "Just wanted to check on Jessica. She fell asleep without saying goodnight. I was a little hard on her, wasn't I?"

After that, Jessica sometimes purposely was the one who made Daddy mad. Mary would never stand up for either of them, and she never tried to find out anything even if it would be really cool if they knew. Mary just wasn't as brave as Jessica was, that was all. Plus, even though it hurt to be spanked, Jessica was tough and strong. Mary cried just when she got a scratch or even if Daddy just yelled at her.

Also, Jessica kind of liked the special time she got with Daddy afterwards. Mama had said that no one should touch you on your privates, but she also said Jessica couldn't touch her own privates, which was silly, because Jessica had to wipe after using the toilet and clean in the bath. And it's not like Dad was hurting her. It felt kind of funny and sometimes weird, but being with Daddy felt good. Sometimes Daddy acted a little strange about it, whispering that Mama would be mad if she knew and not to tell, but it was okay. Jessica liked secrets.

It was something they shared.

They were in fifth grade when Mary found Jessica kicking her horse.

In school that day, Mary and Jessica had sat through a lecture on puberty. The teacher had warned that sex causes babies and they shouldn't do it. Mary wasn't exactly sure what sex was other than that it was between a boy and a girl and involved their privates. She was looking for Jessica to explain.

Jessica wasn't in their bedroom. She wasn't in the living room watching television or the tree house. Mary went to the stables.

Jessica had her horse on a long lead. She was standing in the corral, flicking at the horse's hind hooves with a dressage whip. Jessica's horse was called Cher, at least at the time. Before that, it was called Custard, but Jessica had decided that was too babyish. (Mary's horse had always been called Land Cookie.) Cher was cantering around the corral, Jessica turning with her, snapping the whip when she slowed.

Cher was not happy. Mary could see the horse was tired. Froth gathered in waves on her neck and leaked from the corners of her mouth. Cher stopped suddenly, stumbling, and Jessica made a frustrated sound. Before Mary could say anything, Jessica stomped across the dirt and kicked Cher, hard.

"Stupid horse!"

Cher kicked back with her rear leg, barely missing Jessica.

"Jessy!" Mary cried. Jessica glanced over her shoulder, then kicked Cher again.

This time Cher reared up.

"Sissy, stop!" But Jessica was already taking her long whip, the kind meant to encourage a horse from far away, and hitting at Cher's chest with the hard handle.

Mary scrambled over the fence and rushed to Jessica. She pulled her towards the far side of the corral, away from Cher.

"What are you _doing,_ Sissy?" Mary asked. Her heart was pounding behind her eyes. Jessica's face looked pinched and angry. Jessica hit her, hard, across the face.

"Ow! Why'd you do that?!"

"I didn't ask for your help," Jessica said, shoving Mary away. She climbed over the fence, but she stopped on just the other side of it.

Mary looked at Cher. The horse was breathing hard but standing still. Mary moved towards the horse slowly. She gently took the metal bit from the horse's mouth and slipped the bridle over her ears. Cher shook her head, sending sweat flying. Mary scratched under her mane and scooped her hand along Cher's neck, gathering foam.

After that, Mary went back to Jessica. Jessica was still standing on the other side of the fence. Her shoulders were shaking and her head was low. Mary knew she was crying.

"Jessy, what's wrong?" Mary asked, putting her arm around her twin. Jessica began to cry harder, pressing her face into Mary's neck. Mary wrapped both arms around her sister and let her cry.

"Tell me, Sissy, it's okay," Mary said some time later, petting Jessica's hair.

"It's Daddy," Jessica whispered. Mary leaned closer.

"You know how the teacher said we shouldn't have sex?"

Mary nodded.

"Mare, I think- I think Daddy's been...I think Daddy and I….we've been having sex, Mary!"

Mary didn't know what to say. She didn't know much about sex, but she was pretty sure a dad and daughter weren't supposed to do it together.

"I didn't know," Jessica told her. "I didn't know, Mary, I didn't know it was bad! We've always had special Daddy time, I knew it felt weird but I didn't know it was _wrong._ I'm going to hell, Mary, I'm going to hell forever, and I'll be there alone with Daddy!"

"Shh," Mary told her, holding her tighter. "You're not going anywhere alone! We'll always be together!"

Mary still wasn't sure exactly what sex was. She was scared to ask Jessica now. A small part of her wondered why Daddy did it with Jessica and not her.

"You're not going to hell. Daddy is!" Mary said, using her strongest voice. "You didn't know but _he_ did. We should tell Mama."

"No!" Jessica gasped. "No, please Mary, promise me! Daddy said if Mama finds out, she'll leave us. She'll leave us forever and it'll be my fault. It's my fault, anyway, if I was a good girl, Daddy wouldn't need to punish me, and if he didn't punish me, we wouldn't have to apologize to each other later."

Mary was silent. That didn't seem quite right. But she wasn't sure.

"I won't tell," she said, finally. "But you can't be mean to the horses because Daddy's being mean to you."

"I've been feeling so angry," Jessica said, starting to cry again. "I didn't know why. When we were in class today and the teacher was talking, it was like she was telling me the words I needed to know why I was mad. I didn't know why it felt funny. It didn't used to feel bad to be with Daddy."

"Jessica," Mary started, wanting to ask what Daddy was doing, exactly. Mary remembered being in the bathroom and sitting on the counter. She had spread her privates ( _labia_ , the teacher had said) and looked at the hole in the mirror ( _vagina_ ). She wondered if Daddy was putting his hands there. She decided not to ask. Instead she said, "Next time you're angry, come tell me. We're _twins_!"

That was how it started. Sometimes days would pass, and sometimes only hours, but Jessica began taking Mary's hand and leading her to their bedroom. She would slap Mary or kick her (but only on her bottom, where there was cushion). Sometimes Jessica pinched Mary hard enough to leave half-moon scratches. Sometimes she bit, sinking her teeth into Mary's upper arm.

Jessica would be very angry. She was intense and scary. But as she made her muscles hard and cruel, her face would relax. Afterwards, they would hug and lay together.

Later, Mary would realize that was the moment that everything went wrong between them. But at the time, Mary didn't mind. It was something they shared.

On Halloween in sixth grade, Mary went totally crazy and stabbed Jessica with a fork. With. A. Fork. It was a tiny doll fork, sure, but it was the most dramatic thing to ever happen between the two of them and Jessica talked about it for weeks.

It was silly, really. Jessica thought they were too old to be playing with dolls, anyway, but sometimes, when no one was around, they still did. It was Mary who liked them, honestly.

If anyone were to ask, Jessica was ready with a defense. She would be quick to point out that it wasn't like they were played house, or anything babyish like that. The twins set their dolls up in their beautiful clothes with their beautiful accessories and told stories about them. Jessica and Mary had an extensive doll collection, with beds and wardrobes and velvety horses and dozens of clothes.

It happened on Halloween, which made the whole thing even better. It was appropriately dramatic. Mama was out getting last-minute candy and Daddy never got home before 7 anymore, even on holidays. Jessica doubted he even knew what the girls had dressed up as for the school party. Of course, they weren't going trick-or-treating (they weren't babies!) but it had been fun to pick out costumes one last time. Jessica had dressed as a renaissance girl, with a lovely corset and long, draping sleeves. Mama had sewed the costume under Jessica's watchful eye. She was very aware that she was starting to look womanly and wanted her costume to look as pretty as she did. Mary had dressed up as some historical woman with a flag, betty something-or-other.

Anyway, Jessica was really just teasing. Mary was so easy to tease, and she never stood up to Jessica anymore, not since…last year. Sometimes Jessica pushed her just to see what would happen. She knew Mary would be upset, but how was she to know that Mary would go nuts and stab her!

Also, she had been bored.

Jessica stood up from the table suddenly, having stopped listening to Mary's complicated backstory for the dolls several minutes before. Mary had stopped suddenly and looked at her, her face surprised and a tiny bit hurt.

"I know what's missing," Jessica had told her. Jessica dropped her head to one side and turned her mouth into a lopsided smile. She squeezed her eyes together just a little bit. She had been practicing that expression in the mirror. It was the one Mama used at the country club when she wanted a better seat or to be moved away from someone annoying.

Mary looked scared, for a second, and Jessica realized Mary thought that Jessica was going to take her to the bedroom and hurt her. But Jessica was moving on from those childish temper tantrums. She had accepted that she was ruined, in that way, and there was no point trying to hit the knowledge away. Some day, she would marry someone rich and put her parents in an expensive but lonely nursing home, and that would be that.

Anyway, she was finding that there were other ways to hurt Mary.

Jessica turned and left the room. She walked quickly to their bedroom, careful not to seem hesitant. She picked up Mary's special doll, the one with the navy dress and the porcelain face, off the chair at the end of Mary's bed. Mary was too old for such a stupid thing, anyway, but she felt a swoop in her belly anyway. She never touched the doll without Mary's permission.

Mary's eyes widened when she saw Jessica walk in the room with her doll. Jessica dropped the doll on the table, not hard enough to break it, but enough to show she didn't care about it too much. As she sat primly back in her chair, she noticed that Mary looked shocked. The tickle in her stomach turned hard and she felt strangely happy.

"Jessy!" Mary shouted. She grabbed the doll off the table and held it to her chest. Mary could be such a baby, and _so_ dramatic. If she had to deal with half the stuff Jessica did, she would probably run away or something stupid like that.

With that thought, Jessica grabbed the doll by it's hair and yanked it towards her. She held it up for Mary to see and smiled mockingly.

That was when Mary went crazy. Jessica saw that she was shaking and watched as one of Mary's hands grabbed at her other arm, where Jessica had pinched her just the other day. Then Mary's eyes got hard like Dad's sometimes did, and before Jessica could do anything else, Mary had grabbed the tiny fork and lunged for Jessica's arm, sinking the prongs in like Jessica was made of butter.

Jessica howled and hit Mary hard, with a closed fist. Mary fell to the floor and screamed, then saw the blood dripping there from Jessica's wound, and screamed again. Mary backed into the wall and cried, saying over and over again that she was sorry.

Jessica felt numb. She could see the blood, but all she could think about was that the fork was a lobster fork they had stolen from their mother's good set and now it was bloody and Mama would know. Jessica wondered wildly if she could pull it out and wash it off and get a bandaid, but then suddenly, Mama was _there_ and it didn't matter anymore.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Her mama said, and then she was calling for an ambulance and Mary was still crying in the corner of the kitchen and Dad was home and he pulled Mary into the other room and Jessica knew she was being spanked, which had hardly ever happened to _Mary_ and never since they started puberty. Some medical people got there and they looked at her arm and pulled the fork right out and bandaged her up and she went to bed still in shock. And she didn't even get any candy.

After that, Mary had to go talk to some head doctor about why she stabbed her sister. But Jessica made her promise that she wouldn't tell about Dad and how Jessica had hurt Mary a hundred times in little ways and how that one stab wasn't even close to making it equal. So Mary just said she was jealous and she knew it was wrong and made up some stuff about wanting to be her own person away from Jessica.

Later, Jessica would think that was the moment when everything went wrong between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the comments, kudos, and hits. Sorry for the very long delay...in addition to all the things going on in my life, I found this very hard to write. I'm a young mother of two little girls and there was a lot of triggering content in this chapter. So thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warning for: rape, (post partem) depression, and child loss

Chapter 3: 

Mary's heart was racing under the black silk blouse she had borrowed from Jessica. She was going on her first date. She wasn't sure if she was more nervous about being alone with a boy or about lying to her father about what she was doing that night.

Jessica always had an alibi. But Jessica had also perfected a subtle threat, which she used to keep their father from checking up on her too closely. A head tilt, a narrowed gaze, a slightly raised eyebrow that said "how much do you want me to tell?"

Jessica had been on about two dozen dates already. Mary tried to remember that it wasn't a competition and they were only sixteen, but sometimes, after a particularly sharp sarcastic comment, Mary could tell by the way Jessica appraised her that Jessica knew. It was a strange feeling, being jealous of someone who had the same looks as you, the same house, the same parents.

Mary just had to admit that Jessica was more approachable. She had that laugh and that smile. She knew when to flick her hair and how to brush against a boy, just a little bit. Jealousy didn't feel like quite the right description for it. She was just acutely aware of how obvious their differences were to everyone else, and that made her uncomfortably and prickly.

Mary tried to remind herself that Jessica had grown up too fast and it wasn't her fault she was more experienced. That always made Mary feel softer towards her. And guilty. Incredibly guilty. Mary should have told. She knew that now. But it was too late. Why dig up the past? It was years ago.

Will was a boy she had met at a bookstore. He was a freshman in college. He was pre-law. Mary knew better than to be too hopeful or emotional or silly, but she was excited. Jessica had even done her hair and makeup.

Will picked her up at the same bookstore. He pulled out her seat at the restaurant and held her hand during the movie. That night, he dropped her off where they had started.

"I had a really nice time," he told her, his big brown eyes lit up under the streetlamp. His hair was chestnut and it gleamed.

"Well, that's good," Mary said. "Seeing as how you've been holding my hand all night."

Did her normally sarcastic tone have the right note of flirtation to it? She wasn't sure.

It seemed it did. Will leaned forward and kissed her, very gently. It was slightly offset. She was motionless. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere: fingertips, eyes, naval, and oh, at the joining of her legs.

She realized a second too late that she hadn't made any move to kiss him back. He started to pull away and she lurched forward awkwardly, landing her lips on the corner of his mouth. He chuckled.

"I have a 4.0," Mary whispered. "I know I can do better than that. Give me another shot."

He did.

"Where is your sister?" Jessica's father roared, throwing her bedroom door open so hard that it bounced back into him. Jessica was lying on her stomach in bed, writing in her journal.

"At Jane's house," Jessica said, keeping her tone careless. She watched her father out of her peripheral, gauging his body language. "God, Dad, you didn't have leave a crater in my wall. She said she'd be home by curfew."

"Jessica, don't you lie to me, young lady!" Her father shouted. He strode into the room and stood in front of her bed, reaching for her as though to force her to sit up. Jessica sighed and rolled into a seated position gracefully, tucking her journal and pen under her legs. Her father leaned forward, his face a mottled map of veins and age marks. At this distance, Jessica could see every greyish pore, every bristly moustache hair. She leaned back.

"Dad, why would I lie? That's where she told me she was going to be," Jessica said. She put on her sweetest smile. She straddled a thin line between suck-up and rebel with her parents. She was charming and beautiful and poised, and so she got away with a little bit of boys-and-booze related mischief every now and then. But she was loyal to Mary, leveraging her pull with her parents to ease their frustrations with Mary's snippy remarks and dour fashion sense. Jessica was such a good sister.

"Well, I just came from the club, where I saw Jane's parents...and Jane," her father said, dangerously.

"Oh. Well, I can go look for her," Jessica offered, sliding off the bed. "You know Mary, she never gets in trouble. She probably meant to go over there and ended up at the bookstore, reading about ancient romans or something."

"I went to the bookstore." Her father glared at her suspiciously. "They said she left. In a car. With a boy."

"Oh," Jessica said. "Hmm"

She thought fast. She didn't want to admit she had been lying about where Mary was. But she didn't want her father's imagination running off with him either.

"She did tell me she met someone at the bookstore," Jessica volunteered slowly. "If that's who it is though, Dad, you have nothing to worry about. He's pre-med, it's a great match. His parents go to North."

Her father sniffed. He would never admit that North Country Club was slightly more exclusive than the one the Drake family attended.

"She can't just lie about it, though," he snapped. "Did you know about this date?"

"No, Daddy," Jessica said. Her father humphed.

"Robert…" Her mother said softly, from the door. "She's sixteen. It's normal to be private…"

He turned to her and she flinched, as though smacked. Jessica hated her. How could she be so weak? She had never been hit, she had never been raped…

"So we just let her get away with it then?" He was roaring again, puffing up his chest. There was something about her mother's blinking, shrinking face that enraged him as much as it enraged Jessica, and she hated that there was that commonality between them. Her hatred flared higher, hardening from her heart out. He had been calm! If only her mother would just butt out!

"My children are commanded by me!" Her father continued on. "Not a so-called need for 'privacy.' Jessica, if she comes in here to gossip when she gets home, you send her straight to her room, do you hear me? I'm going to belt that girl, I swear to God-"

"Oh, Robert," her mother said. "Come on, now, she's too old for all that!"

"Shut up, mom," Jessica muttered under her breath.

"She's not an adult! She's sixteen! If we let her get away with this, what next? She'll be dressing like a whore, sleeping around. She'll be pregnant!"

That's exactly what happened.

Mary let herself into the house at 9:55. Her heart was still beating erratically. She couldn't stop smiling.

Jessica met her in the dark entrance way. Mary jumped and her heart, already skipping, began to race. Mary grinned at her twin and hugged her, feeling unburdened, feeling exuberant. But when she let go of Jessica and caught sight of her face, Mary's smile faded.

"Did he…?" Mary asked.

Jessica nodded.

"He said to go straight to your room. He said he was going to belt you," Jessica whispered. "I'm sorry. I tried."

Mary wondered briefly if she really had. She wouldn't put it past Jessica to rat her out, in some twisted notion of being protective or balancing the equation between them. Or because she thought it would be fun. But Jessica's face was pale in the darkness and her eyes were wide.

Mary and Jessica held hands as they walked down the hallway. Jessica let herself into her room and Mary reluctantly let go of her hand. Their eyes met in the hallway, lit by a sliver of light escaping through Jessica's open door.

He met Mary at the door. He looked hulking, giant. She didn't remember him being quite so tall. He locked the door behind him.

He yelled at her. He called her all sorts of names. She was loose, damaged goods. He undid his belt. He grabbed her hair and threw her face down on her bed. She was ready for that. She was not ready for him to yank up her skirt, exposing the lacy underwear she had borrowed from Jessica. The sight of it seemed to enrage him more. She heard the belt as it sliced through the air.

She cried as he hit her, and then he shoved his beefy hand against her mouth, almost covering her nose.

"You're a disgusting girl," he snarled in her ear, and then his fingers looped through the delicate underwear and he ripped them right off. He was on her and in her and all around her.

She was frozen, like she had been when Will kissed her. That had been exhilaration; this was pure terror. She didn't fight. She didn't yell. She lay, limp. He whispered words of justification with a venom she didn't think was possible to pass from a father to his daughter.

He put his belt back on and slammed the door shut as he left. As though he was the one with the right to be mad. Mary slid to the floor. She lay her head back on the bed, but smelled blood and something else there, so she picked it back up again. She began to cry.

Jessica found her, crying silently and shaking, sitting taut, trying not to breath too deep. Jessica helped Mary up. Her eyes glanced over the ripped underwear, crumpled on the floor. They landed on Mary's bleeding welts and the damp spot on the bed.

Jessica hugged Mary tightly and kissed her hair.

"Shower," she said briskly, and she led Mary to the bathroom. She turned on the water and got in with Mary like they were kids. Mary let Jessica scrub her back and wash her hair, the soap stinging the backs of her legs.

Jessica wrapped Mary in her own favorite, fluffy robe, taking the thinner towel for herself. She handed Mary pajamas, which Mary put on obediently. They slept together in Jessica's room like when they were kids.

When Mary went back into her room the next day, the sheets had been changed.

Jessica really needed to get into the bathroom. Her hair spray and curlers were in there, and Jessica didn't care if it was a Saturday, damn it, she wasn't going to be seen looking like a drowned cat with her hair swinging in a sheet around her face. She had stomped down the hall, huffed outside the door, tapped her fingers in an ever-increasing rhythm, and even resorted to whining, but Mary would. not. come. out.

Mary could be so dramatic.

"Mary!" Jessica knocked insistently, again. "Come on. I know you're not doing your hair. I need in!"

Mary remained stoically silent, as she had for the last half hour.

"Should I tell Mom that you're sick?" Jessica suggested, sweetly. "I'll just go let her know…"

The door clicked and Jessica grinned as Mary's pale arm snaked through the gap, grabbing Jessica and pulling her inside.

"Ew," Jessica said, wrinkling her nose up. "You are sick. Have you been throwing up? You're skinny enough, sis."

Mary was pale and her eyes were wide and glassy. Jessica could see a strange expression on her twin's face, as though she had fallen and had the wind knocked out of her.

"I've been sick every morning this week," Mary whispered, pausing over each word. Jessica stared at her, eyebrows raised.

"Okay…" she said, slowly. She gave her twin a hug. "It's fine. Stay here, I'll run down to the gas station-"

"No!" Mary grabbed Jessica's arm, gripping it painfully. "Everyone knows us!"

"Relax," Jessica said, peeling Mary's fingers off. "I'm not going to pay for it."

Some time later, the twins sat together in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick. Mary turned away as the minutes ticked by, and when Jessica urged her to check it, Mary refused.

"Do it for me, please, sissy, I can't."

The test was positive. Mary was pregnant.

Jessica waited a long time, watching the fluttering pulse in her twin's neck, waiting for Mary's gulping and gasping to quiet. While she waited, Jessica put on her makeup and combed up her hair, both giving her hands something to do and giving the girls a reasonable excuse if either of their parents questioned their long disappearance into the bathroom. When Jessica felt she looked reasonably made up, she began brushing Mary's hair, spritzing it and teasing.

Mary finally fell silent and still, calmed by the gentle tugging of her Jessica's hands in her hair.

"Look," Jessica said, struggling with the words. "It's not as bad as you think. Mom will take you to a place and a doctor will do a little scrape and then it will be done."

Mary gasped, and turned, her hair yanking through Jessica's fingers.

"What? I can't tell Mom!"

"They won't let you get rid of it without her," Jessica said firmly.

"Wha- I don't- I haven't even thought that far! A baby...I can't, I couldn't…" Mary was going to be hyperventilating soon and Jessica was rapidly losing patience.

She took her long, manicured fingers and pinched Mary smartly on the fleshy part of her upper arm, gripping the skin for a long moment and glaring in her sister's face. Mary's eyes welled with tears and Jessica felt a strange dizziness. Suddenly, she was twelve again, channeling her rage into the one person she knew would always be there.

"Mom did it for me," Jessica said, when Mary finally blew out the breath she had been holding and blinked back the tears. Jessica released her sister's arm and saw the parentheses she'd left there, a little symbol holding all the secrets between them. "When I was thirteen."

"Thirteen? But you weren't dating until…"

"Yeah," Jessica cut the conversation short. "Why do you think it stopped?"

"But why are we still here?" Mary whispered, anguished, dramatic, Jessica thought. She suppressed her eye roll.

"Because mom is a housewife with no skills and we have a nice life otherwise. Duh."

"I can't believe this," Mary said, coldly. "Mom wouldn't do this to us, let him do this to us-"

"Shut up Mary and stop being stupid," Jessica snapped. "You're getting an abortion and we're continuing to live our nice life and that's it. Don't you dare fall apart now. You think I don't know it's fucked up? You've dealt with this once, I've dealt with it dozens of times. Now brush your teeth."

The bathroom door clicked firmly as Jessica left.

Mary waited too long. By the time she was found out, it was too late. She would have to have the baby.

Jessica seemed to take it as a personal slight against her. It didn't seem fair to Mary. Jessica had kept her body and her sanity. She hadn't had to feel the fluttering kicks and unsettling shifting of a creature inside of her. Mary was a incubator for a parasite. For Jessica, it had been over as soon as it began.

Nevertheless, Jessica spent the next several months slamming doors and whispering insults at Mary. Attention whore, she called her as they passed in the hallway. Drama queen, she muttered in Mary's ear as she slipped into Mary's bed, dragging her sharp nails down Mary's back, pinching and scratching her. Afterwards, Jessica would cry and Mary would comfort her. Jessica would apologize, but thinly. It never stopped her from coming back. Mary's belly grew larger between them.

Once, Jessica accused Mary of being happy about what had happened. After that, they had both cried, shaking.

It was a debt Mary was paying off, in exchange for the uneven way the abuses against them had unfolded. Jessica would see a baby as a badge for what they had endured at their father's hands. Their mother had been able to ignore and avoid the it when Jessica had silently gone along with an abortion. Mary's refusal to act until it was too late was a kind of cowardice, but also a bargaining chip, a point of leverage. Dorothy Drake could hardly ignore what was happening now. And Jessica could hardly stand that Mary's single incident of abuse would be the one to force the conversation.

But Mary doubted her mother would confront their father. Their captor, she thought, humorlessly. Hope, which she hadn't put much stock in before, was farther away than ever.

"But what are you going to do, later?" Jessica kept asking.

Mary didn't have plans for later. Later was too far away. She was focusing on getting through the hours without vomiting. After that, she focused on getting through the days without showing, physically or mentally. And when she was finally confronted by her mother, she was focused on getting through the last three months without being harmed further by her father.

It was therefore not exactly a surprise when Mary was sent to a "home for girls".

"You need to be somewhere where you can think about making the right choice...after," her mother said.

"She needs to be somewhere where she's not making the Drake family a laughing stock. Little whore, what did I tell you, Dorothy? What did I tell you?" Her father said. "Good thing it's summer, did us one favor, didn't she?"

"You'll be safe there," Jessica whispered to her.

At first, Mary did feel safer in the sterile room, away from her mother's tears and her father's pounding feet. It was evening when she realized. Mary had never slept this far from Jessica. The stretch of a hallway was the largest gap to ever come between them. The miles suddenly felt like an impenetrable chasm.

The following weeks were filled with grumbling nurses and quiet walks in the hot hallways. Once a day, Mary was permitted outside to walk in the hot sun, sweating through her cotton gown. Her parents did not visit.

Jessica visited several times, escorted by a various young men who found the whole thing intriguing and dramatic.

"They're all bums," Jessica assured her. "They don't know anyone from the club. But they can't spread the gossip either, so I suffer their company, for you."

Jessica had warmed to the situation since Mary's removal from the house. Her sister put slender hands on Mary's belly and smiled. Mary found she couldn't read her sister's expression as well as she could when they lived together. Had it only been a few months? It seemed a lifetime.

When the baby was born, they withheld pain medicine, and shushed her crying with rough cloths, wiped against her eyes and finally stuffed in her mouth. She gagged and panicked, compulsed. The baby slid out of her as she vomited. She was humiliated and torn. Her body hurt. She felt quartered, split in two from belly to bottom, and divided again, mother from child.

But how could she be a mother? She hardly knew her own.

They let her see the baby, supervised, several times a day. She learned to feed it from a bottle. Her breasts ached, heavily, but they told her it would pass.

"You don't want to start that," the nurse told her. "You're a baby yourself. Give her to some nice family, see, some married couple who can't have one. There's time for you."

Mary had catalogued with distant fascination as the other girls had given birth. She couldn't predict how each would react. That had scared her. Some girls chose to raise their babies, others sent them with family to be raised as a sibling or cousin. More still gave their children to stone-faced workers to be put "in the system." Afterwards, the girls hardened into fighters, or melted like wax candles. They were logical or flippant or sad. They were ready to leave or terrified to move.

Mary had always been logical, straight forward. She prided herself on being rational. But afterwards, she felt broken. She cried often. Her brain felt like a sieve. She couldn't hold information in it for long. She couldn't make a decision.

She was plagued by nightmares. She would be holding her baby, who looked up at her with her father's face. Sometimes the baby would speak.

"You can't protect me," it would say.

Mary tried not to sleep, wedging herself upright in bed. During the day, the dreams lurked in her peripheral. Her head would nod and she would drop instantly into the moment, her baby turning towards her, it's face an ugly man's mask.

The baby was one week old, nameless and without a future, when Jessica showed up.

Jessica looked like an angel, holding the baby in a beam of sunlight, her hair blonde and lit up. Jessica winked at one of the nurses, a rare male specimen in a prison of quiet old women and stifled infant cries.

"They say you can come home as soon as you give her up," Jessica said, carelessly. "What's her name, anyhow?"

Mary didn't know.

"You have a few months to get back to normal, start school in the fall, no one will know the difference," Jessica said, leaning forward conspiratorially. Mary stared at her. Get back to normal? Mary knew Jessica meant lose the baby weight. If only she knew that Mary's belly wasn't the only thing softened.

The Mary of Before had moved through every day like a girl from a story, a role model of productivity. She had done her lessons. She had made her bed. She may have been breaking down inside, but outside she was as unruffled as a stone.

The Mary of Now couldn't name her child. She couldn't decide if she would raise the baby or give it up. She couldn't even imagine going back to school for her senior year.

"I can't go back," she said, finally. "I can't see...him."

"Oh, please," Jessica scoffed. She stopped twirling her hair around her fingers. Her eyes, which had been focused over Mary's head, soft and teasing, turned hard. The male nurse left noisily to Mary's left. "Please, tell me again how hard it will be for you to be home with him every day."

"Jessy," Mary said, and was shocked that it came out a whine. "Sissy…"

There was a long silence between them, Jessica glaring away and Mary staring at her. The baby started to stir and Jessica patted it's bottom absentmindedly. The dizziness creeped in again and Mary suddenly felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. It would be easy to mistake Jessica for Mary, sitting there, cradling the child, soothing it. Soothing her.

"Her name is Cecilia," she said, surprising them both with the certainty in her voice. Mary stood up and took the baby from her sister. "And I want her. So I can't come home."

"You're being stupid," Jessica snapped, standing up suddenly. "You're giving up college. You're giving up me."

Jessica stomped out. Mary felt nauseous and sat down, holding Cecilia close. But when she looked in the child's face and saw her thick blonde hair and bleary blue eyes, the room stilled around her. For the first time in a week, she felt calm.

That's why it was such a surprise to wake with the baby in her bed, still and blue. She had screamed, then cried, trying to kiss Cecelia awake.

The nurses said it was an accident. The culmination of a week of sleep deprivation. She had wandered into the nursery in a stupor and taken the babe to her bed, suffocating Cecilia against her own leaking breasts.

Jessica hadn't planned, precisely, to hurt them. It was just that she was so mad.

Her plan, if you could call it that, had been to go for a joyride in the hotshot sports car one of her idiot boyfriends owned. He was on his way to being nothing more impressive than a mechanic. Jessica hardly gave him the briefest glance in the daylight, but she could admit he was a fun time when the sun was setting and she had drank a few glasses. Anyway, he'd been taking her to see Mary that summer, the ungrateful little whore, so Jessica had kept him around.

They had driven to a parking lot after visiting Mary and Jessica had angrily allowed him to enter her, rolling her eyes and huffing until he had finished up. He didn't notice or else didn't care to ask what was wrong. No surprise there. What could she have said, anyway? I miss my sister. I thought things would go back to normal. I wanted us to go to college together.

What tripe.

After a bottle of cheap wine and a six pack of beer, he was passed out and she was more enraged than ever.

It was luck, really, that brought Jessica and her parents to the same place at the same time. Fate. Someone, somewhere, had been rooting for this, Jessica thought, and so it played out neatly.

She was racing along the backroads, enjoying the screaming gears and lurching engine as she inexpertly worked the gear shift. She came upon a car going much too slow, crawling along as though determined not to give in to the roaring vehicle behind it. Jessica saw the license plate and a laugh was ripped from her chest, lost in the sound of the booming rock music.

Of course it was her parents, her father behind the wheel. She could imagine him now, jaw clenched, hands white as he gripped the wheel, eyes narrowed as they darted between the rear view mirror and the road. Jessica revved the engine and weaved erratically back and forth across the lanes. She honked. He would be cussing now. How many times had she seen him, ranting about irresponsible teens with their no good layabout parents?

Jessica wasn't hardly thinking anymore. She zoomed into the lane next to them and grinned, level with her mother's terrified face. Her parents turned to look at her, stunned, and her mother started crying, hand pressed flat against the window. Jessica could see her mother's mouth moving, her cowardly, shrinking mother. Her father tried to speed up and cut her off. Jessica swung the wheel in a wide arch and the Drake family car went crashing off the road, tumbling down a steep embankment.

She hadn't meant to hurt them, exactly. But as she stood there at the edge of the road, staring at their smoking car, suspended upside down twenty feet below her, she couldn't exactly bring herself to feel remorse either.

She thought of her father's wheezing breath, his nose whistling in her ear as he violated her, his rough calloused hands that gripped her tightly and left bruises. She thought of her mother, taking her to a clinic and holding her hands as a doctor dug around inside of her, neither of the adults doing anything to help her.

She drove away. When the police came by the next morning, she feigned shock. Two tragedies in one night, her parents and her niece both taken from this world.

"Too soon," she muttered tearfully, for the police officer's benefit.

By the next week, Jessica's maternal grandmother had moved in, Mary had returned home, and Jessica could finally see a future that made sense.

In reality, the future was dark and twisted. But Jessica didn't know it then.

 **Author's Notes:** Whew. It took a lot not to put too much of my own spiraling emotions into this as I explored Mary's mindset after having her baby. With both of my kids, I have had a very hard time after their birth, and I was fortunate to have healthy babies. Thanks for reading and sticking with me through this chapter.


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